Fight the Dusk, Spite the Dawn
by Moonlighter
Summary: A tale of the early beginning of Elrond and Celebrian's long courtship, mainly from the viewpoint of Galadriel and Celeborn - Cirdan also appears. A blend of romance, foreboding, and coming to terms. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

***~*~***  
_Disclaimer: recognizable characters and places are Copyright of Tolkien._   


**~`Fight the Dusk, Spite the Dawn`~**

  


"He is stern," said Galadriel. At her daughter's unvoiced reaction she shrugged, a small and eloquent gesture. "I merely question if you would know happiness in close company with one so quiet and grave. It does not seem to suit you." 

Looking up from the brim of her cup, Celebrian wondered if her mother understood the irony in her own statement; yet her solemn visage betrayed no humor, as usual. She shrugged in turn, smiling. "He is not so terrible when he is in close company with me." 

Galadriel partook of her tea, and did not speak for several minutes. Outside of the sitting room was a plethora of duties she could be tending to. Beyond the window Elves were singing happily at work, among them Celeborn. She was neither glad for this reprieve nor eager for it to end. "I would have you think long upon this, ere any decision is made." 

"Love is not a decision, and love we already have. But very well." Celebrian sat back, comfortable. "We have forever, as well." 

It did not appear that Galadriel heard aught but the agreement. "I would also have you speak with your father, after I do. And soon he and I will speak with Elrond." 

"Yes, very well." Celebrian sat forward, miffed. "We love each other, you know." 

As if the question had been long planned, Galadriel asked, "And, besides that, what can you tell me of him?" 

Celebrian retreated to the solace of her own tea before replying, "No more than you know already, I suppose." 

"I know little of this matter, my daughter." 

**~*~**

"Elrond?" Celeborn asked laughing. "Halfelven?" 

Galadriel was unsmiling. "Is there another?" 

The answer was delayed as he hefted a sapling from a cart, the roots wrapped snugly in burlap. "I thought there must be, else the nature of your question mystifies me; for of course I know Elrond, and so do you." 

"Yet I seek your insight, husband." Unhappily she added, "My own has failed me." 

Cautious, Celeborn lowered the plantlet to a prepared hole in the ground, murmuring endearments as though each leaf were a lover's ear. Swiping dirt from calloused hands he turned to his wife. "What is the hour, I wonder." Gazing skyward he squinted under the afternoon sun, and sighed into the heavy silence. "I would have a drink first, if we are to talk." Together they walked through the field, stopping beside a well. Celeborn spoke of other things along the way. 

"You remember the wall of Whitethorn I had planned, to barricade the lower lands," Galadriel nodded, disinterested. "That will not do after all, according to the vote. Ah, I suppose 'tis petty of me, that I should mind at all. But Erestor, suggesting that this pasture may yet be built upon… I did not believe Elrond would agree with that." He muttered, "Built of weeds, perhaps." 

Galadriel did not in truth care whether the field was left exposed or blocked by a gate of branch and thorn – least of all since they would not be dwelling here but temporarily. More intriguing to her was the vote itself, regardless of its outcome. But she said, "I should think the obvious solution is to close a lesser portion of the plain. Thus none would worry of the need to expand with scare space in which to occupy." 

"Yes," Celeborn sounded annoyed, "and I proposed as much. Yet Elrond would not suffer any part of the valley to be segregated from another. His was the final word on the matter ere it was put to a vote, and the results did not depose him." 

Galadriel would not say that she perceived the wisdom of the final decision, nor that none's word was final in the event of a vote. Instead she reminded her husband of the water he supposedly required in order to speak. When he stalled again her irritation only grew. 

"I am wilting under this sun," he said. "Let us find a quiet place within shade." Galadriel insisted that they halt beside the first wall of the first building they approached; of this his disappointment was made obvious. "Oh, but this is—" 

"It is as cool as any other shaded place," she interrupted, and neither his sigh nor his pout swayed her. 

He sat down against the wall, making the most out of this unwelcome distraction. "What would you have of me then?" 

She gazed out at the work being done in the field below, where not two decades previously an army of Men and Elves had camped, ready for war. It might seem that her present concerns paled in comparison, but it was not so. For each great tree of the future begins as a seemingly insignificant acorn. "Did you know that Elrond held one in especial close to his heart?" 

This he considered. "I had an inkling. Yet for all that we learned of each other in our years of acquaintance, his heart concerning such matters was ever closed to me." He was reminded of his first meeting with the Half-elf in the early Second Age, when Celeborn presided in Harlindon under the High King. Unlooked for Elrond had arrived from the south, weary after long wanderings afar. Celeborn had taken an immediate liking to him, as it also happened with Gil-galad in Forlindon, where Elrond after dwelt, eventually as the king's herald. But being fast friends had not made them close friends in many ways; a riddle Celeborn ever rued, and never solved. 

He spoke again, "I owed it to the uncertainty of the future that he waited, as is often the way of such things in troubled times." Here his voice lowered, "Until we returned from Mordor; then I wondered. For though his relief was great, there was less of the joy I would expect from one who returns after war to his beloved. Now I think that there was never a special one, or else that she cannot be had in this world." With or without accord, his eyes turned to the West. "Many have gone away over sea, more every day." 

Galadriel was patient as he spoke. "Forgive me, dear one. I should have asked: did you know that the one held in especial close to Elrond's heart was our daughter?" 

**~*~**

"I would speak with thee, Peredhel." 

Elrond turned, met with Celeborn's grim countenance. He matched it. "I will hear no more of Dwarves this day." 

Now Celeborn was doubly bothered. "What of the Dwarves?" 

The reply was tired, as one spoken many times already; "All benefits, options, compromises, and arrangements shall be resolved at court—ah, in council, and I will abide no gossiping in the meantime, least of all when the subjects of speculation are guests in this house. That Erestor suspects Nair's proposal shall be more prosperous for his people than ours is an opinion based little upon fact, and one that has no place in politics regardless." 

"Ah, Nair – ever the bargainer, that Dwarf." Celeborn shifted unknowingly in mood and stance. "Long ago this I learned, and it has not changed: they think because Elves live the longer that we deserve the lesser compensation, for we have eternity in which to garner our wealth as they see it." He held up a hand, silencing the other. "I know what you would say, Elrond! And I also have no desire to sunder ties with Durin's folk who fought against Sauron; but neither do I desire to be walked upon by iron-clad feet. Their interest now in trading serves one purpose: they require sustenance according to their plans of long isolation. We must be careful to complete our dealings with finality, lest we wait an Age for reimbursement, 'til they emerge hungry and eager to treat once again." 

Elrond had begun collecting parchments from a table. "I gather Erestor has been more vociferous than I anticipated, and with better success. So much for pithy warnings then – next time I shall fain gag him." 

"Erestor? No, no, we have not spoken." Remembering the true purpose of his visit, he sighed. "Elrond, never mind my words. I did not come to speak of the Dwarves with you." 

"What then? And forgive my bluntness, but I am weary." 

Having labored all day with a shovel and pickax, Celeborn was not moved to pity a loremaster's eyestrain. "Celebrian." 

Now Elrond retrieved the parchments from the floor where they were dropped. He was silent as he straightened, and he did not meet Celeborn's eyes. "Ah." 

"How is it that I called you friend through the last Age, Elrond, and yet I have learned only recently that you esteem my own daughter as the desire of your heart?" 

Elrond thought better of offering to speak upon the shortcomings of Dwarves instead. He sat down, his heart settling heavy within him. "Why have you come to me with this now, ten years after his death?" 

If Celeborn noticed Elrond's distress, he gave no indication. "I come to you as the revelation came to me: just today, and without comfort." Seeing the other flinch, he said softer, "But of Gil-galad's involvement I know naught." 

Elrond looked up, eyes full of turmoil. "If Gil-galad did not speak of this to you, then verily you heard my own thoughts, for I confided in no other." 

**~*~**

"You embarrassed me." 

"You embarrassed yourself. Did I not warn you to be discreet?" 

Celeborn waved a hand dismissively. "You know I prefer not to duel friends with fair words, and candor suits me best. But if you wished to advise me, why did you not say instead that Elrond did not know that Celebrian knew?" 

"Because I did not know that Elrond did not know that Celebrian knew. Yours was not the only misunderstanding in this case." Galadriel gazed out of the window, brooding upon the absurdity of it all. But a thought occurred to her, and she said softer, "Yet I do not rue the mistake. Clearly Celebrian is insightful, and perceiving Elrond's heart -even finding that she shared his feelings- was it not her mother whom she first approached? That is a valuable lesson." 

The reply Celeborn prepared fell silent when Celebrian entered the chamber. "My book," she said quietly, "please excuse me." With the recovered volume in hand she left, quite slower than necessary. 

When she no longer lingered in the hallway without, Galadriel said, "What is done is done. Let us look forward." 

"How far, and from whose perspective? Would you have me place her hand in his?" As if to bar the possibility, Celeborn made two fists. 

His wife was calm. "We have informed Elrond of Celebrian's mutual affections—" 

"Inadvertently." 

"Yes. And now they have their own choices to make. Until then our role in this stage has nearly been played in full." Yet almost is not all, and Galadriel's mind worked busily upon the rest. 

Pacing, Celeborn considered other issues. "The time for this to unfold is not ideal. Dwarves are here, negotiating trade; I shall need to watch like a nervous parent lest they sell Elrond the Bridge of Khazad-dum, I fear. You know Thranduil wants little to do with aught beyond his own forest, bless him; he holds the Gray Mountains in profitable ransom thereby, and I am an Orc if Nair knows it not. Alas that I am to travel to Arnor within the year for Valandil's crowning—" 

"Peace, husband, you fret needlessly. Cirdan will treat with the Dwarves of Ered Luin, Thranduil with those of the Gray Mountains, and us with Durin's folk – remember also that Amroth will contribute on our behalf if need be. This is no hardship on the Elves, and should not concern you. Nair is an honorable delegate among his kin, who do not forget the long friendship twixt our folk; no advantage will be taken of our detachment with the northern assets. Of Valandil's crowing, I heard last that Elrond changed his mind, and would attend himself." 

Celeborn was not consoled. "But more is the trouble; with Thranduil's attention turned inward, Elrond may not have the strength to watch the roads and deal with the north. Vigilance west of the Misty Mountains will fall heavily upon him once we are gone, as 'tis all Cirdan's folk can do to build ships as quickly as they are taken." He massaged his temples, grimacing. 

"Always after war so much is to be done, yet so few remain to do it. I forebode we shall not return to our own land as soon as we—" he glanced to the doorway, where his daughter now stood in the fading light of day. She made no excuse for her presence this time, save that whenever Elrond's name was spoken she seemed to appear. Celeborn beckoned her to enter, forgetting matters of state for the nonce. "Take a seat for yourself, Celebrian." 

She did so, then said, "I am saddened, father, for your mood is unhappy because of my love – it should not be so." 

"There are other things at work, my daughter, that you do not consider." Under his breath he said, "So many, in fact, that I cannot concentrate on just one." Coming to stand beside her, he spoke louder, "But that Elrond and you share love does not trouble me. That Elrond -a colleague whom I also called friend for long years- would keep this secret from me is troubling indeed." 

"Yet that you feel betrayed in friendship does not concern me greatly, though I sorrow for your pain," said Celebrian, respectfully. "Surely Elrond has sound reason for his actions, as he will explain to you, and amends shall be made. I feel certain of this." 

"I will not say that the prospect is unappealing!" Remembering his fondness for Elrond, Celeborn did not wish that a rift remain between them, and such was his nature that already he yearned to understand and forgive. But he said, "It would be grievous if relations twixt our realms suffered strain, in these days which should be glad and peaceful for all." 

"That is not the heart of this matter," said Galadriel, turning from the window. "Yet concerning it, I shall speak with Elrond on the morrow." 

"And we may go courting?" Celebrian sounded hopeful. 

"That will be determined, among other things." 

**~*~**

"My daughter is full of love, and promise." Her smile was brief, and did not reach her eyes, nor comfort her companion. "She loves this world; verily, she loves every thing upon and about this world. She is full of life, and the life within her is meant to be unhindered, nourished, everlasting." 

Made keenly uncomfortable by the suspicion that his own capacities were under scrutiny, Elrond could not help but shift a little. "You doubt my longevity? My endurance?" 

"No, the grace you live by is certain." 

"That of my progeny?" 

"No, their fate would be their own, interwoven amid yours only so long as you could sustain them by the power within you to do so." Knowing he had another question prepared, she said, "And the obvious question of compatibility would answer itself, ask me not that." 

Shifting again, Elrond said, "Then respectfully, my lady, in what way does your heart misgive you?" 

The private study seemed a fit place for disclosure of such matters. Galadriel spoke plainly, "Great would be your love and so would be your sorrow, yet greater than both would be your children, surpassing all joy and tragedy come before them, I foretell. But the end is hidden from me, and I remember ever the past, when not long ago Celebrian's heart was turned to another – on a whim, as it now seems." 

Pretending not to be bothered, Elrond became busy at his desk, reordering things out of place. "I did not ask to know that." 

"Yet it is best that you do, loremaster." The title was no small compliment to pay; for Elrond -once renown as a mighty warrior- had renounced his sword after the Last Alliance. She came closer, possibly closer than she had ever stood beside him. "With love given freely comes a degree of frivolity. Celebrian has that to no harm, though it ought to be recognized as what it is." 

Sensing his upset she touched his arm grown tense, and tried to soothe him by saying, "This is not Cuivienen of the folklore, Elrond, nor like it in simplicity or innocence. We do not wake beside our one and only match in this world. The paths we might take are many, and not all of them are obvious or the most desirable-seeming at the time. That you loved Celebrian even at your first sight of her is no wonder to me; many others have felt likewise before you. That Celebrian loves you also is not atypical, for she relishes making the stern smile and the wise think. But if she loves you truly or for your own sake must yet be discovered." 

Elrond swallowed a reply full of pride, and spoke mildly against the din of his pounding heart, "You speak wisely, and of your love for your daughter there is no doubt, nor wrongness. Yet I also possess a measure of foresight in this, and— " 

"There is no need for us to compare prophesies, I deem." She patted his arm, the pulsing veins beneath his flesh a legend aching to endure. The blood of a Maia was slow to dilute, and flowed hot within this one. So she spoke coolly, "As you are no doubt aware, my daughter was reared abiding the principles of the Eldar. Thus though there might be potential in this coupling, it may be explored only with due process. And so with the blessings of my husband and I, and with Celebrian's accord, you two are allowed to court for a time, if this is your desire also, and providing that we four are of like mind concerning matters of acceptable decorum." 

His eyes that had looked straight ahead descended as she spoke, and finally closed. He was not expected to feel insulted, though to feel otherwise seemed impossible. Nor was he expected to feel special, and that hurt most of all. Yet this was Galadriel, wife of Celeborn.... what degree of personal grief has their service and influence already paid for in full, and could he dare ask for more of them – indeed, their only daughter? _'You must honour your alliances,'_ Gil-galad had once said, _'before you may love your allies.'_   
Elrond said nothing, now just as then. 

"You will think on it, I see. When your decision is made you may approach Celeborn, and he will permit you accordingly." As Galadriel left, the sun passed behind a cloud, and soon the air grew thick with the message of rain and a starless night. 

Looked skyward Elrond found no consolation, and thought upon the doom that had brought him here. 

**~*~**


	2. Chapter 2

**~*~**

Some weeks later, Celeborn was sought. After contradicting directions from several well-meaning Elves amid two hours of fruitless searching, Elrond found Celeborn in a remote locale: a small barn used by wardens posted on the outskirts of the valley. 

In shadow Celeborn sat upon the floor beside a cock of freshly cut hay, sharpening a scythe that glittered under a stray beam of sunlight. Coming upon this scene, Elrond calmly marked the nearest exits in relation to where his horse waited outside. Then with a respectful bow he said smiling, "Celeborn, I find you at last, well met. May we talk, or am I..." _unwelcome_, he thought, but finished, "interrupting?" 

Celeborn had not looked up, but did so now with a dispassionate gaze that shone in the dimness. "No, we may talk. Is this matter official, or..." there was no reason for his pause, "personal?" 

"Perhaps both." Elrond carefully did not recoil as Celeborn unfolded his long legs and stood. The Sinda was very tall, looming above the other by a hand's length; but Elrond was of mightier build, having the blood of Noldor and Men in his veins. Long they faced, two hearts pondering the guardedness of the other. 

First to speak again was Elrond, "I wish to apologize to you, foremost." 

"Indeed." Celeborn replaced the scythe upon a hook on the wall, and did not turn back. 

"My reasons for silence remain my own, but I intended no one to be wounded thereby. Had Celebrian first come to me upon learning of my heart, I would have next approached you myself out of respect and correctness." 

"Either I believe you would have or I do not, for that cannot now be known with certainty." 

With mild temper the words were spoken, yet the meaning was not kind. Straightening, Elrond said firmly, "In friendship and duty I have never once lied to you. But look into my eyes if you doubt that." The challenge was accepted, and Celeborn whirled. Though his next breath caught, Elrond did not flinch, knowing -as Celeborn perceived- that his statement was true. 

But Celeborn saw much else, and he said, "Lies might also be indirect; for instance, keeping silent with intent to deceive." 

"Then I am a constant liar who must remain so, and well should you know why unless you forget to whom you speak." 

With a frown Celeborn looked away and down, then away again from the ring Elrond wore. After careful thought he said, "Apology accepted. But now I wish to offer one of my own. I know the burden upon you is great, and if the conditions of one thing become entangled with..." he made a motion with his finger, "that of another, it is not my place to question the solution, even if it is a degree of secrecy." He sighed. "You understand that I had not made any such connection before, though in hindsight it seems obvious." 

"That is neither here nor there." With those forgiving words Elrond extended his hand, but not the one Celeborn wished to avoid. "Apology accepted." 

They clasped arms in a gesture of amity. Of the pair Elrond was most relieved, and Celeborn now reluctant to carry on. Looking into the Half-elf's eyes, clearly brighter and less troubled than before, Celeborn found that his difficulty only increased. He forced out some words, "Well, we come now to the other." 

"Oh, yes." Blinking Elrond rearranged himself, appearing to Celeborn like a boy that stands as a man and speaks in a false voice, but is a lad nonetheless. "I have decided... that is: it is my wish that, nay I would humbly request—" 

"Elrond... cease and relax." A smile came easily for Celeborn, if his words did not. "I know what you would say, and I know you are decent. Consider the request well-spoken and equally well-received." He took a breath even as Elrond released the one he held. "As you know, Galadriel and I have already judged that this courtship will be allowed. Though as I must explain to you now, there are conditions." 

Some consolation was to be had in Celeborn's face, slightly contorted with sympathy, like a kind-hearted surgeon poised to do some painful but necessary deed. Yet Elrond was a healer himself, and had endured enough injuries of his own: in pain and pity he was experienced, at least. Forewarning also he had, for Galadriel had hinted at restrictions previously. 

_Celebrian is worth boundaries and more_, he told himself, and met Celeborn's eyes, and did not let go. "Do tell." 

**~*~**

"The celebration was beautiful, wondrous!" Celebrian fairly danced to her mother's side, smiling wryly. "To think you feared it would be dull. And father! How could he bear to miss this?" 

"With ease." Galadriel joined in her daughter's smile, and watched as Celebrian shimmied through their escort, stopping beside Elrond at its front – every mortal eye in the market of Annuminas followed her journey. 

"This was more of what I envisioned a king's wedding to be like," she said. "Elrond, have you witnessed any weddings? Should royalty among Men wed, how would the celebration compare to this crowning? Verily today it seemed as grand an occasion as it could be." 

Galadriel arrived behind them just as Elrond had a chance to reply. "Indeed this coronation symbolizes marriage of a sort: that of Valandil the new King to Arnor his Kingdom. But I have also seen weddings among Men, and they vary as any ceremony may in splendor – that is, as a matter of demonstration. Just as with Elves, it is not unheard of that two humans might wed in privacy and quiet." 

"Oh?" Celebrian hooked her arm around Elrond's, as delighted to embrace new knowledge as to embrace her teacher, and doubly pleased to do both. "And would you have an intimate ceremony for yourself, loremaster, should ever you suffer to be wed?" 

Galadriel could not help but notice how Elrond tended to tense when Celebrian teased. Since she was inclined to jest, he was seldom otherwise. "I know not," he said. "What of you, my lady?" 

Celebrian did not abandon her flirtatiousness to answer, "Ah, I am my mother's daughter at that, I deem. So long as I may have the one I desire, my heart is content without public ado." 

Even from behind, Elrond's discomfort was manifest. Shoppers and merchants near and far were dazzled by Galadriel's smile, and that of her daughter – though the Lord of Rivendell was not remembered for his cheer. 

They spent the afternoon exploring the city of Annuminas and the evening in the company of the new King of Arnor. Beside Valandil they viewed artwork while minstrels hailed beauty and sorrow, their voices echoing through the halls like water over stone. Later they charmed dignitaries over an elegant meal, and their host could not be more pleased to have High Elves at his table – and on his account. At last when the night was late they departed for the quarters prepared for them. 

As they walked, Celebrian again found her place at Elrond's side. "Is it strange for you to think that these men, the Numenoreans, are your kin from afar?" 

"Nay, no more so now than ever." 

"Will you pose for Elros' portrait ere we depart, as Valandil asked?" She shook her head. "Now that at least must seem to you strange." 

Eyes low, Elrond paused. He gestured to his side even as Galadriel's maids crossed him to pass through the doorway. "Your room, my lady," he said. 

Galadriel remained after all others had entered, interrupting her daughter's attempt to share a private moment with Elrond in the hall. "Celebrian, since you have praised this day's events so highly, I hope you will give your thanks to Master Elrond for inviting us." 

Their eyes met, and Celebrian's gaze was dark with annoyance. "Yes, mother, I would like to." Galadriel meant presently. Celebrian, however, meant intimately. Both thought themselves entitled to their wishes, neither willing to compromise. 

Between this contest of wills Elrond inserted, "Truly Valandil deserves all thanks, for it was his invitation that I extended to others, and his hospitality we partake of." 

He was unheard, or ignored. "Mother, please? Are you not weary?" Celebrian made subtle gestures towards the chamber. 

"My excitement this day was less than your own," Galadriel replied kindly. "Take yourself inside now, and I will have a few words with Elrond ere I retire." 

With a sigh Celebrian whirled, in her irritation neglecting to say aught to Elrond since she could not say all that she wished. 

When the door closed, Galadriel said approvingly, "You have been courteous and decent in this courtship." 

Elrond half-bowed in thanks, though in truth his graciousness was waning. "I hope you had no reason to expect less of me." 

If she did, she was too diplomatic to say so. "Nevertheless, I am pleased. So too, I think, is Celebrian. And how do you fare amid this arrangement?" 

If he was affronted even his eyes would not tell. "Indeed fine. Propriety, you could say, comes naturally to me." He did not add that his manners would not change in the absence of watchful eyes constantly upon him. 

Perceiving more than his words, she smiled. "That is good to know." 

Their exchange continued but briefly, as ever full of forced politeness and tired discretion. When Galadriel entered her quarters after bidding Elrond a good night, she found Celebrian waiting, and looking decidedly miffed. "Must we be supervised so? You make him behave…" a flourish of her hands did not alter her articulation, "all strangely." 

Galadriel's reply was patient, "My daughter, he is neither Elf nor Man, and could not be more mingled in blood unless there were a Dwarf in his ancestry. What do you imagine would be normal, and would we recognize it if we saw it?" 

Celebrian was inclined to argue. Elrond, she insisted, could not possibly feel at ease under such scrutiny, whether his uneasiness was evident or not. Elrond, Galadriel countered, ought to have nothing to hide, thus observation should make no difference. 

In a huff Celebrian retired to bed, unwilling to contend further with her mother. But she said in parting, "Without argument I have obeyed the conditions laid upon our courtship by father and yourself. It is difficult enough finding time to spend with Elrond, considering his many obligations, and even at his most comfortable he is still cautious. I pray you not render my efforts in vain by making him a stranger in my company whenever you are near." 

After Celebrian had left, her words and what she left unsaid was long pondered. Galadriel was accustomed to being well-informed of the people and things around her, and Elrond was mysterious by his very nature. This, she decided, was not the most compatible match. And there was little she could think to do about it. 

By the end of the First Age, she had had no love for Maglor his foster parent, nor for any follower of Maedhros. The sad tale of Elrond's beginnings did not explain his participation in the Great War that followed; for what orphan of war leaves its fosterage to be immersed in war anew? It was over a century into the Second Age when he first appeared in Harlindon, and of his journeying across Middle-earth prior to that she had heard no tales told. Yet Gil-galad had trusted him – well did Galadriel know to precisely what extent. 

Still, while the Valar had appointed Elros as King of Numenor, what besides the grace of the Firstborn had Elrond been granted, and why not more? What she knew seemed trivial compared to the significance of the unknown. 

Into the night Galadriel sat awake beside an open window, unaware that in the next room Elrond did the same. 

**~*~**

When the moment was right, she fled unseen into the wood. Soon passing an armed Elf of the escort, she pressed a finger against her lips, demanding his silence and cooperation. By his bewildered expression she knew neither would be assured for long, but ran on, heedless of the sloping ground under a blanket of autumn leaves. Swiftly she reached the river and followed its current without slowing, a flash of silver hair amid the trees and the sparkling stream. 

Within moments she came upon him, kneeling alone beside the water. Full of pride, her heart soared with the achievement of her long effort: to seize a moment of privacy with this very one. Closing the final distance between them, she said without lack of breath, "Bright morrow to you, Master Elrond." 

Without looking over his shoulder he said, "Be wary, my lady, for not a moment ago I heard an oliphaunt traipsing nearby." 

Her smile faded, only to be replaced by laughter. "If you would know, I cared for haste, not stealth." Beside Elrond was a rock, and Celebrian leapt to perch herself upon it. "Lo and behold!" Once his attention was had she looked about as if startled, then whispered to confide, "No one else is nigh. Indeed, I dare say we are alone." 

Gravely he replied, "Since it has not happened before, I can only conclude that it is a coincidence of the most innocent kind." But his eyes were not innocent as he asked, "Shall I return you to your keepers?" 

Celebrian tipped her nose upwards. "I believe oliphaunts should not have keepers, but be free to traipse about as they please." Elrond smiled, saying nothing. She drank in the sight of his mirth, forsaking the stone to sit closer to him in the sandy loam. As she settled down, she noticed that his hands were empty, and no canteen was near. "I had expected to find you collecting water. Well, I was partially right, for you are here, at least." 

As if her thoughts had also been voiced he turned his hands palm-up, then replaced them upon his knees. "I came only to hear the river." 

Celebrian bent forward, listening. After a moment she sat back. "Do you think of the Sea?" 

"Nay," his look was perplexed, as though he could not fathom the similarity. "This water runs from the Mountains." 

She laughed. "First falling from the sky as snow, yes. But does the churning sound not remind you?" He only shrugged, and she nodded. "I do not have the Sea-longing awoken in me either. Mother says I am too young, but father is ancient and still loves best the forests. He does not miss Harlindon near the sea, and neither do I though it be the place of my birth. Nor do we miss Edhellond greatly, he and I, though mother wishes to return there soon. Do you miss Lindon where you dwelled?" 

Frowning, Elrond said, "That is not a question with one simple answer." The first thought to enter his mind upon mention of Lindon was his brother. At the Gray Havens they had been reunited after separation during the Great Battle – the same place Elrond had stood alone upon learning that his brother was dead. His second thought was of Gil-galad, the fallen king of a faded realm, another Age. Silently Celebrian folded her hand over his, and it seemed that the words came easier, and fewer were necessary. "I miss... certain times." 

"When the world was at peace," she reflected. 

"And people." 

"Before so many passed into the West... or beyond." Thinking of the former kings, she bowed her head with respect, lifting it in time with Elrond. Their eyes met exactly, even as their thoughts had been matched. Being bold did not deter Celebrian from moving forward. But being wise deterred Elrond from reciprocating her advance. 

Undaunted in spirit she returned to her own space, saying lightly, "Do you remember the merchant wagons we passed yestereve?" At his nod she continued, "I was amazed that they traveled with so many children." 

Glad for the change, Elrond recited what knowledge he had on the subject with ease. "From what else I know of traveling merchants, it is a hard life to lead. They must take their family upon the road or scarcely see their family at all. Dwarf-merchants as far south as the Ered Luin will travel to Annuminas, and Men from the southern coast unafraid to journey by boat and horse. Doubtless more will come from even further, eventually." 

Celebrian blinked. "Yes, but... there were just so many children!" 

Elrond laughed. "There were indeed." 

Seeing joy light his face, Celebrian ventured, "Do you foresee children of your own?" By the shape of his mouth, she knew the answer would be in jest. 

"Oh, verily. Eighteen will suffice, I deem. And you?" 

Appalled, she waved his figure away. "Eleven is a better number; besides, I need no more than that, and care to name even fewer." They exchanged crooked grins. She thought Elrond would appreciate the humor in her next thought, for the mortal merchants sojourned with less protection than Elves without riches. "There was one youth among them unafraid of us Elves, you know, who wanted to know why we traveled with an army of our very own." 

After a moment of silence, Elrond said, "He should have asked me." Celebrian found his eyes intense upon her. Ensnared in that gaze she was powerless even to incline towards his touch as he reached out to her, brushing only her cheek. "I could have explained to him that while silver and grain has great worth, a silver queen is utterly invaluable, greater even than the concept of price." 

Now Celebrian was determined, and anticipating Elrond's elusive tendencies she devised a plan without flaw. Sweetly she said, "Such kind words do warm my heart, and equally am I warmed by your soft touch. Might I have a kiss for this memory as well? I trust you to be gentle, and then truly I would feel as a queen." 

Elrond sat straighter, eyes wide. "No," he hissed, but not in answer. 

Before Celebrian could question or indeed even become offended she heard someone approaching. And she sighed, knowing that her chance was over, and success was fleeting at its end. 

"Dangerous is a world still trembling with the footsteps of war, and none should wander alone without arms or escort," said an Elf as though the words were not of his own phrasing. Coming upon the two he was sent to find, he remembered his own courtship, and sighed. "Or so asserts the wisdom of lady Galadriel, and I would not presume to gainsay her." Here he gave an advising glance to Celebrian. 

"In one of her moods, is my beloved mother?" 

The guard extended a hand to help her stand. "I am certain that I know not what you mean, my lady." 

Celebrian was certain he did, but had no mind for a confrontation, with her mother or anyone. For it was a genuine smile that Elrond gave her in parting that morning by the river, and she did not forget it. 

**~*~**


	3. Chapter 3

**~*~**

The convoy arrived at Edhellond two years later than planned, looking well if not entirely eager. The horses were led away by stablehands, and the weary travelers retired for rest. In this way Celeborn came to his bedchamber; there his wife was waiting with no more anticipation than a candle standing unlit, indifferent towards a matchstick. Or so it seemed. 

After the Elves delivering Celeborn's luggage departed, Galadriel spoke, "I had organized parties to conduct thorough searches along all the shore of Belfalas in your absence, and at my behest they toiled tirelessly. Wrought with long and hard labor are the spoils of our time and effort, but I do not regret." She smiled. "Such is my love for you." 

Eyes narrowed, Celeborn replied, "Are you unwell?" 

"I speak of your ransom! I guessed Amroth's price would be high indeed, and planned to appease him with a wealth of pearls, so that he might surrender you unharmed, and as soon as may be." 

With a sigh he sat on their bed. "You jest." 

"Not of my love for you." She came to stand before him. "Now, tell me what kept you so long in the Golden Wood! How is the good king caring for that fair land?" 

There was a pause long enough to be a hesitation. "Lorinand prospers, and the king is well." More was expected of him. "But he did not keep us longer than his wont. We set out from Imladris later than planned." 

"I see." Galadriel sat next to him. Normally she would know where her husband and daughter walked, even from afar. "Well, I have indeed been incessantly occupied – though not at the trials I explained in jest, of course. Still…" she made a motion with her hand, as if sweeping away the oversight. "Was there aught amiss which required your prolonged attention there?" 

"Nay— that is," he paused, "after those planning to depart for Mithlond had gone, Imladris was left quiet and bare, less peaceful than deserted. Though I have long desired to return to our home here, it seemed inconsiderate to leave so soon after that land had lost so many. Hardly a voice resounds now beyond the walls of the House; the valley sleeps." 

"And Elrond has fewer demands upon his time." 

Celeborn glanced sidelong, perceiving his wife's next question as well. "He does indeed. And yes, Celebrian wished to remain – she also yearned to return, even after our stay in Caras Galadon." 

Seeing his wife sink slightly, he thought to comfort her by saying, "They had had scarce time to spend undisturbed together, since they began courting." This had begun but years ago; he recalled another beginning in a past Age and a different place – yet love and its symptoms had not changed. "Not like our own courtship in the safety and peace of Doriath, my wife. Their love is still new and exciting as a world unexplored. Well should we understand that feeling! I was pleased to remember it, as I observed them together." 

Galadriel stood, saying after a moment, "Doubtless you are weary, husband. Why not disrobe, and I will have a bath drawn for you. Have you eaten? I will see that a meal is brought also, after you are made comfortable." 

Celeborn did not move. "If you had but seen them together in these last years, your mind would be different." 

Turning, she retorted, "Would it be changed entirely, not dissimilar to your own?" 

"Do not look upon me as an ally lost! I am still cautious, and I retain a number of reservations. But I cannot deny now that their love is genuine, and I suspect more profound than friendship." He watched her closely. "Do you still doubt? It has been a decade, after all, and their hearts are unchanged." 

Galadriel came closer again, finding answers to countless questions within her husband's eyes. Her own mind promptly closed; such was truly her love for Celeborn, that she would not burden him with her own insights unnecessarily. "Mayhap time and observation will sway my mind also. But my own judgments I shall keep for a while. I go now to prepare your bath." Pausing at the door she said, "Yet Celebrian left Elrond's company of her own volition." 

Laughing lightly, he replied, "Of course. And though she misses him already, she has missed you for longer, and dearly." 

Galadriel nodded. "Then we shall see if distance strengthens their bond, or if with longing comes forgetfulness. In the meanwhile, let us speak no more of this." And for some years that followed, they did not. 

**~*~**

"I do not ask that you agree with me. I merely ask that you acknowledge my opinion." 

Galadriel threw up her hands. "Consider it noted." 

For a moment there was silence in the room, mirrored by the icy scene of winter outside. Then Galadriel amended, "Though being partial as you are, your opinion weighs less in this case than it otherwise might." Her husband made a strange sound of aggravation, and set down the book he had not been reading with undue force. 

"You are being purposefully difficult," said Celeborn. 

"And you are unnecessarily irate. Do you now refuse to acknowledge my own opinion?" 

"That being that I am partial? I suppose I do, for I am not." 

"But you are so." She held up a hand when her husband whirled. "In a time without war his peaceable nature befriended you; later upon a battlefield his healing hands mended you. Do you not understand? You like him too well to see this matter clearly." 

"Then since you like him not at all, I should say we are evenly matched." He crossed his arms as if to stop any reply, but seeing his wife was undeterred, went on in her place instead, "If I should have no say in this because of my presumed biases, then to be fair neither should you. And it shall be left for Celebrian and Elrond to work out amongst themselves." A decidedly smug smirk tugged at his mouth. His wife did not smile. 

"Convenient, since their minds are of similar inclination as your own." 

He shrugged. "Now yes, but maybe not in the end. By our decree, there is yet eighty years that must pass before they may consider marriage." 

Gliding to a chair, Galadriel said, "I am glad to hear, at least, you have not changed your mind about that." 

Whether by defeat or distraction, the fight left Celeborn. In a quiet voice he replied, "Nay. For a hundred years she loved another – or thought that she did. Therefore a hundred years they must wait. Alas that this time is not like the last, for all our hearts were then glad, and between us was none of... _this_." 

Celeborn stood looking like a wilted flower, his words falling gentle as petals. Galadriel could not help but soften. "You spoke wisely of fairness. In that vein I say we should not neglect our role as her guardians on account of our own differences. Celebrian would be better served to have even conflicting advice from both of us than none at all. And Elrond -though mature as he may be- is still parentless, and him also we shall counsel in his need." 

If Celeborn was cheered it did not show. He said only, "Yes. That would be best." 

A knock at the door ended their conversation, though the argument was far from over. 

That night Celeborn came quietly to bed, and laid himself down possibly an inch further than his usual place. But an inch could be leagues, depending on which map is used, so Galadriel turned to him in the darkness. 

"Are you wroth with me?" 

His eyes closed. "I am weary of the day." 

What remained unsaid was the answer she heard loudest. "Pray do not be wroth with me." 

He turned onto his side, facing away. "We may speak on the morrow." 

Embracing him from behind, Galadriel said, "As you wish." For a while there was stillness in the room, if not in her heart. Lying thoughtful beside her husband, sad and asleep, Galadriel could feel little but sorry. Words had proven unable to mend the uneasiness resultant after years of debates and disagreeing – and little compromise could be made when both parties were equally right and wrong, if in separate ways. It seemed that each attempt at reconciliation had done more harm than good, yet she desired to make amends no less. 

"That tickles," came Celeborn's complaint. 

Her fingers ceased the circles they had been tracing along his stomach. "In a lovely way? I would continue as it pleases you. It seems your muscles are tense... _here_. Might you sleep better after a massage?" She kissed his shoulder once, then again with her teeth when he did not respond. 

"I am content." 

And so was his wife; steadfast and constant as an Eldar could be – in flesh. "At heart?" she asked, and silence followed. 

Finally he sighed, but not with annoyance. "Your needs are mine, beloved, as ever. Yet though I would gladly please you as I can this night, for my part I would be slow to rouse." 

Galadriel smiled into his hair at this inaccuracy. "Oh, but I would be very patient, and assiduous." Her fingers traced calculated circles around other things, and Celeborn was not so slow to rouse after all. 

Turning onto his back, they kissed fluently. Upon parting he caught her eyes; sorrow he saw, among other things. "It seems we are matched," he said. 

"Then let us make amends, and be matched in forgiveness." Her hand that had cupped his face descended to trace a row of scars along his chest, each regarded as a reminder of life, and as cherished. She bent to kiss one after another. 

"But do not think that my mind can be changed in this way," he added, flinching at a nip, then chuckling along with his wife. 

**~*~**

Galadriel had resolved to tell only a condensed account of the tale. Having relayed all relevant points to Cirdan she stood patient and waited. The Shipwright had listened attentively. Now in the silence he was pensive, head tilted back and eyes half closed, obviously deliberating. 

"Ah," he began, full of meaning. Galadriel leaned forward a touch. As his brows knit, her eyes rose. He said with conviction, "Their children will be fair indeed. I look forward to meeting them." Galadriel's frown was not misleading as his had been. 

Next the tale was told in full, not a single detail omitted. Cirdan became immensely busy with a fishing net during the telling, his eyes never leaving his hands' work. "Ah," he stressed with finality at the second conclusion of the same story. 

"It is not a short ride to Mithlond from Edhellond, my friend." Galadriel shifted her weight from one tender thigh to the other. "Might you manage any more than that, considering my trouble?" 

"Hm." 

"Cirdan…" 

He looked up, hands spread in a demonstration of defenselessness. "What would you have me say?" 

After a long and unwavering stare, she nodded. "So you endorse the union." 

He laughed lightly. "Of course! My heart is glad for them both – may they bring each other eternal joy. I do not know Celebrian closely, but Elrond is a good… well, what he is!" He laughed again. "A good Peredhel, a good person, you know. Yes, my heart is made glad." 

"Your heart—" she began again, "Cirdan, I ask respectfully and only for the insight of your long wisdom." To no avail she had been attempting to reason with love-besotted hearts for the last decade, and had not expected as much from the Shipwright. 

After a deep breath he stood, tall and slender as a young tree, and still as straight. "So be it: in truth and wisdom, I cannot perceive of a better match." 

"Do you mock me?" 

He snorted. "If you must ask, the answer should be obvious. But I would not mock you, and it is not my pleasure to quarrel with you, nor is it my place; yet you did ask my opinion, and not on condition that it echo your own." After a pause he asked, "What says Celeborn? You have told me little of his mind in this." 

"Celeborn looks upon this with his heart, not his mind, and he will not be... swayed. Ever has he been fond of Elrond." 

No humor colored Cirdan's voice. "The same could be said of myself, do not forget. Before Elrond bore his mother-name I knew him, watched as he took his first steps upon the shore of Arvernien, ere Beleriand sank and the world was broken." Blinking away a faraway expression, he said, "Now come – let me give my farewell to the day, for it has been good, and then we may talk more." 

They walked to the end of a long pier, the sun setting before them. Cirdan admired the fiery view with a hand upon his breast. Galadriel smoldered from within, her hands clenched. Night fell as signing arose, and the smell of roasting fish enriched the air. 

With a content sigh Cirdan turned away from the West, and Galadriel turned her gaze on him. "You think me cold," she said evenly, "yet it is not so. Would that I could only perceive the happiness in this, and rejoice with the rest of you. That would be my greatest pleasure, if you would know. But I see many things when I cast my sight down that path, Cirdan, not all of them good. Of their love I delight; of their union I am fearful, and also loath to interfere. All the more does doubt plague me as they ignore the inevitable ending of this course." 

The same pensive look overcame the Shipwright's bearing, and Galadriel feared what she might do if he uttered another monosyllable reply. She made as if to leave, pausing when from behind Cirdan said, "You have but one choice to make from only two options, if I understand aright all that I have heard this day. 

"Either you disapprove openly, and over their marriage will loom a shadow of doubt, after which guilt will brew until it spawns remorse, and aught that you fear shall come to pass all the sooner; for their bliss will be dimmed from the outset, doomed ever to darken. 

"Or else find a place within your heart where hope and trust yet lieth, and therein receive them both sincerely, taking upon yourself fair share of whatever fate awaits them; only in this way will you be joined in their happiness, for as long as it may last." 

No words followed, save the rush and hush of the tide, and Galadriel found herself wondering if Cirdan had spoken at all, or if the waves had ferried this message to her. Two paths indeed, and it seemed that they each were laid before her feet in that moment. At length she turned. Cirdan now faced westwards, his silver head crested by stars and the inky blackness of night. Decision made, she returned to his side. 

"What can you tell me of Elrond? Halfelven." 

Cirdan smiled. "Is there another?" 

**~*~**

When Elrond hurried into the chamber, Lindir bowed respectfully towards the seated lady, and took his leave. 

Rising Galadriel said kindly, "There was no need for you to rush, Elrond." 

Slightly bemused, he replied, "I see that there was not." Yet the messenger sent to inform him of Galadriel's arrival had seemed nervous beyond reason. "Well, it is my pleasure to receive you, as ever. But what brings you to Rivendell? Word reached me in the spring that you had set out for Mithlond." 

"Yes, and Cirdan sends his greetings." By all appearances, Galadriel seemed content to remain in place, smiling at the Lord of Rivendell. Eventually her gaze wandered all about him, as if inspecting a newly presented gift with interest and approval. "May we walk?" 

To Elrond this was a welcome change, and he led them out of the sitting room. They roamed the residence without conversation, eventually settling amid a garden. By then Elrond had grown from uncomfortable to suspicious, and decided to forego formalities. "Celebrian is here visiting, did you know?" 

At first Galadriel was visibly surprised, but then she sighed. "I did not, but that should be little wonder." Her eyes searched the area for an example, finding none that seemed as fitting as could be. But she gestured to a birdbath nearby. "Nor did I know of those sparrows yonder, though certainly I knew sparrows may be found in places they belong." 

Elrond kept silent, and unnaturally still. Unexpectedly Galadriel laughed, and embraced him. Separating to meet his gaze, she said, "I shall fight not the inevitable dusk impending, lest I spite the glorious dawn ascending. And though it be dark and hard at its falling, even the twilight is not everlasting – the sun should have taught me that!" 

Deeming Elrond was on the verge of glee or flight, she took his hands to bar one and encourage the other. "Now tell me of your travels in the far lands, Elrond, when the Second Age was young and the word knew a time of peace; I have little knowledge of the south, and I greatly desire it. Then tales I will tell you of life among the light of the Two Trees in the Blessed Lands long ago, or of Melian your foremother and the deep wisdom she shared with me under the boughs of Doriath long gone." 

After a moment, Elrond blinked. Galadriel looked upon him expectantly, while the insight she offered awoke a pang of hunger within him. "Well," he began, "many things wild and strange I knew..." 

**~`end`~**   
  
  


***~*~***  


**Footnotes:**  
~The history of Celeborn and Galadriel is one of those origins that Tolkien played hot potato with (not complaining, mind). What I've used here is a combination of details from canon accounts. After the Last Alliance, Celeborn and Galadriel resided in Rivendell for a time. I don't envision them as the type to dwell in another's realm for long (just as they left south Lindon with the exodus of Sindar in the Second Age), so I've made Edhellond their official place of residence, and their post-war tenure in Rivendell temporary (maybe an overture to assist Elrond). Side-note: Amroth ruled Lorinand as king until 1981 of the Third Age when he drowned/disappeared -- until then I propose that Celeborn and Galadriel presided in Edhellond.  
~Amroth, for the purposes of this tale, is the son of Amdir (Malgalad), not the son of Galadriel and Celeborn.  
~Celebrian's age is given nowhere in canon that I know of. In this fic I've given her an early Second Age begetting.  
~Elrond's arrival in south Lindon in the early Second Age, when Celeborn supposedly first meets and befriends him, is not an element from canon. Elrond's traveling is a slightly tweaked canon fact – he journeyed at least as far as the Shire to Dunland (I propose even further for my purposes). His line _'many things wild and strange I knew'_ is from FOTR.   
~Celeborn's brief display of Dwarf-bias does have a foothold in canon; he dwelled in Doriath during a time when Thingol had dealings with the Dwarves, being himself kinsman to Thingol who the Dwarves later slew.   
~That Elrond loved Celebrian prior to the beginning of this story, yet spoke not of it, is from canon. That learning Celebrian returned his love broke Elrond's silence is this story's twist.  
~Elrond and Celebrian's lighthearted conversation about children has some significance Elrond jests that he foresees 18 children for himself; in turn Celebrian claims 11 would suffice. Aranarth's son Arahael was the first to be fostered in Elrond's house, and every Chieftain's son after him -15 in total- making Elrond's number of 18 correct once his own three children are added. Celebrian will sail over sea in 2510; Aravorn (born in 2497) is the eighth and last fosterling she knows, making her number of 11 correct once her own three children are added. (This is, however, assuming only one son per Chieftain was fostered in Rivendell.)   
~It is unlikely that Celeborn and Galadriel would be sexually active at this point in their lives. I'm tweaking the Laws and Customs of the Eldar to allow that if Elves had motivations other than bodily urges (such as loneliness and/or desire to make amends), then even ancient Elves past their reproductive stages might/could be physically intimate. Some may consider this a far stretch.  
~One line from this story: _'But an inch could be leagues, depending on which map is used...'_ was inspired by a similar line from the song Cleaveland by Jewel – though it isn't an exact quote, I gladly give credit where it's due.   


***~*~***


End file.
